Christmas Milk
by roxierocks
Summary: Ron's not looking forward to Christmas, but then a glass of milk changes his mind...


disc; i don't own it, so please don't sue me

a/n: this is a blatant mary sue written for my best friend rowena. it's not supposed to be serious in any shape or form, just silly. enjoy! oh, and merry christmas!   

Ronald Weasley plonked himself down at the table, a huge scowl on his overly freckled face.

His best friend, Harry Potter, aka The Boy Who Lived, raised his eyebrows and shot "a look" towards their other best friend, Hermione Granger, resident genius and know-it-all.

Hermione rolled her eyes slightly, then put on a bright smile and said in an extremely obvious I'm-trying-to-cheer-you-up-voice: "Hey Ron! What's up?"

Ron stopped looking depressed long enough to regard her with pure disgust, before letting his head drop straight into Harry's plate of mashed potatoes (this caused a few of the other Gryffindors at the table to regard him with alarm, but as they are of no importance to the story whatsoever, we won't really mention them).

"Thanks Ron," Harry said sarcastically as he looked at the remnants of his dinner, now clinging to his friend's flaming red hair.

Ron, however, responded only with a mournful cry, the effect of which was muffled somewhat by the potatoes.

"Oh for heaven's sake," snapped Hermione, losing all pretence of being patient or concerned (well, when one is above the national IQ it becomes rather tiring pretending to care about other's insignificant problems). "What can possibly be so terrible that you have to bury yourself in Harry's dinner?"  

Ron raised his head (Harry bit down a laugh seeing his friend now held a scarily close resemblance to Dumbledore, covered as he was in mashed potato) and wailed dramatically "Everything!" before flinging himself back down amongst the fluffy whiteness.

Hermione gave a very huffy sigh and said, "Well, I don't have time to sit here and listen to you whine all dinner."

She stood up, gathering the rather large pile of heavy looking books that had been sitting on the table into her arms.

"I'm going to the library!" And with that she marched from the hall.

Harry watched her go and shook his head.

"Wonder what's got her knickers in a twist."

There was no response from the red and white lump that was Ron. 

Harry eyed his friend, debating whether or not just to leave him there (and if, in fact, Ron would even notice), but then decided it was too cruel, even if Ron had destroyed his dinner.

He leant over and carefully tipped a jug of pumpkin juice over Ron's head (causing even more people to stare) and grinned as his friend emerged, coughing and spluttering.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" Ron yelped, shaking drops of pumpkin juice over his fellow Gryffindors, and conveniently ignoring their cries of protest.

"Just wanted to get your attention mate."

"There are other ways of getting my attention. Less wet ones."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, yeah. So what's the terrible catastrophe then?" 

Ron gave an overly melodramatic sigh and said "My life."

He made to drop back down into the mash, but Harry caught his arm.

"Don't be such a drama queen. Your life isn't that bad."

"How would you know? You don't live my life!"

"No," agreed Harry. "But I do live _with_ you, and I know for a fact that your life isn't that bad."

Ron, while considering this, began to absentmindedly eat the plate of mashed potatoes now soaked in pumpkin juice.

"Perhaps not," he agreed finally. "But I'm still feeling like the world is about to come to an end."

"Oh please," said Harry. "What do you possibly have to complain about? Now being me. That's something bad. Oh yeah, that is one hell of a burden. Being the Boy Who Lived. That is what I call pressure. I mean-"

"AHEM."

Harry (who often liked to sing the "ooh isn't my life awful" song) blinked rather stupidly as he looked around, as if he was coming out of some sort of trance.

"Not to rain on your parade or anything," Ron said, "But we were focusing on ME."

Harry looked vaguely confused. "Oh yeah," he said slowly. "You. Right. So, what's _wrong_ with your life:"

 "Well," said Ron, drawing himself up as if about to deliver an important speech. "There's…"

He paused whilst Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, there's…that is to say it's…the fact is …"

Harry smiled smugly. "Sorry Ron, what was that? I didn't quite catch it."

Ron (who now resembled a goldfish) opened and closed his mouth a few times then said, "I'm poor. Ha. Put that in your pipe and smoke it!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Pul-lease. How many times are you going to play the "I'm poor" card?"

Ron scowled. "How many times are you going to play the "I never wanted any of this" card?"

Harry winced. "Ouch. Touché."

Ron had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "Sorry. Must be the time of year."

Harry shrugged and said "No biggie." Although he was actually quite annoyed. After all, he never _did_ want any of it. (But hey, that's another perk of being The Boy Who lived. You have to act like Mary Sunshine.)

"Anyway," he continued, pushing thoughts of hanging Ron from the chandelier by his ears firmly to the back of his mind. "Cheer up. Tomorrow's Christmas."

Ron's only response was a muffled groan, somewhere from the vicinity of Harry's dinner plate.

Ron was lost.

He couldn't believe it.

He'd only gone out for a short walk, and now he was bloody lost.

Not to mention the fact that he was wearing his pyjamas, yellow roller skates and a pair of Rudolph antlers. (He had no recollection of putting these things on, he just knew he was definitely wearing them.)

The trees (Since when were there trees? Where had they come from?) seemed to creep closer and closer as he walked (well, skated actually) further and further into the forest, which had a suspicious amount of mist that tended to encircle him every once in a while. In fact, Ron was just beginning to get seriously creeped out, when he noticed a clearing up ahead. In the middle of the clearing was a light, a shining golden light that was so beautiful it made him want to cry (not that he did, of course).

He stepped into the clearing, stomach riding the ferris wheel, and gazed upon the most beautiful sight ever imaginable.  

A glass of milk.

Surrounded by this shining, golden light sat the most perfect glass of milk ever known to the existence of man or wizard.

Ron was filled with the desperate urge to drink some of this perfect milk, just a sip, yet was held back by the knowledge that if he drank the perfect milk, then the perfect milk would no longer be perfect.

Whilst he debated (hopping from one foot to the other like a small child in need of the toilet) the milk began to ripple inside the glass, until it resembled a very small tornado.

Ron stared, wide eyed, as this milk tornado grew and grew, until it was twice his size, and then began to change shape. As he watched the golden light turned to a white so bright he was hasty to close his eyes for fear of damaging his retina and being forced to live out the rest of his days blind.

When the funny roaring that had filled his ears died down, he opened his eyes again, only to find himself surrounded by that white light and unable to see anything at all.

And then the singing began.

The most beautiful song ever heard.

It filled him like, well, a beautiful song actually, and for a moment believed he was actually breathing the song (which is, of course, scientifically impossible) and he wanted to spread a pair of wings, which he definitely did not have, and soar amongst the angels in heaven.

The light surrounding him began to clear and suddenly he could see (as one usually can when your eyes are no longer obstructed).

The glass of milk had vanished, and in it's place was a beautiful girl, skin the colour of the beverage she had emerged from, hair cascading over her shoulders like a golden waterfall, eyes bluer than any blue he had ever seen in his life.

She was singing. The song that had only moments ago made him want to fly, and now he understood why. She was perfect.

He took a faltering step towards her, and she turned to look at him, her song finishing on a high, soft note that made his tongue melt (though not literally).

She smiled, and he felt his heart might explode.

"Are you real?" he whispered.

"Yes," her voice was softer than the softest of soft things.

She stood and walked towards him, her long white dress rippling around her.

As he stared down into her clear sapphire eyes, he felt he was staring at a tiny piece of heaven.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Rowena," she replied. "I am the Goddess of Milk."

It didn't occur to him that being a Goddess of Milk might be regarded as a little strange by some. Even if it had, he wouldn't have cared. He had found the most perfect being in the existence of all eternity. When you looked at it like that, it didn't really matter what kind of Goddess she was.

"Can I marry you?" he asked.

She laughed, and he knew this time his heart would explode.

"Perhaps."

She smiled a slightly secretive, mischievous smile.

"Now I must go."

"Go!" he cried, extremely distressed (as well one might be if they had just found the most perfect being in the existence of all eternity and now she was going). "Go where?"

"Somewhere," she replied.

Before he could protest, she leant forward and brushed his lips with her own.

"Goodbye Ronald," she whispered. "And I thank you for not drinking me."

And then she was fading before his eyes, and he was trying to grab hold of her, but she kept slipping through his finger, as if she was only made of milk, and then he was falling, falling, falling…

…right out of bed onto the dormitory floor.

"Ouch!"

Ron rubbed his head, wondering why he was on the floor and why he had a sudden urge for a glass of milk.

He shrugged as he climbed back into bed.

"Must be the potatoes."

Christmas morning was a lively affair in Gryffindor tower.

Harry, Ron and the rest of the boys in their dormitory (who are still contributing nothing to the story) were rather rudely awoken when Ron's older twin brothers Fred and George decided it would be a good idea to blast "Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly" (fa la la la la, la la la la) from the dormitory walls, and have fake (but very cold) snow fall from the ceiling.

Needless to say it wasn't.

Ron, his mood totally unimproved and now with the added yearning for milk, grumbled his way through his presents and into the Great Hall for a disgustingly cheery speech by Dumbledore and a breakfast "full of Christmas spirit!" consisting of green eggs, holly decorated bacon and red toast with tiny golden baubles on it.

He was just speculating that this was the worst day of his life (for some reason there was not a drop of milk to be seen) when he glimpsed a flash of startling gold that had nothing to do with his bizarre excuse for toast.

There, only two seats down, at his very own Gryffindor table, was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on.  

Her hair was like spun gold, her skin milk white and when she looked up he saw her eyes were like a blue lagoon.

Her gaze caught his, and for a moment they were both transfixed, then they looked away, each blushing a charming rose colour.

Ron stared at his festive food, the hubbub of the Great Hall fading to a barely heard mumble.

Who was she? And why did he have the feeling he'd not only seen her before, but asked her to marry him?

Breakfast couldn't end soon enough.

As soon as it was over he leapt to his feet (knocking his unfinished meal all over Harry's knees) and ran towards the girl, who was running in his direction (even though they were only two chairs apart and, therefore, had nowhere really to run).

They stopped facing each other, staring, until Ron finally spoke.

"Rowena."

The girl blinked.

"How do you know my name?"

Ron frowned, feeling confused (something which happened a lot).

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just do. I'm-"

"Ronald," she interrupted. She blushed slightly. "Ron."

Now it was his turn to blink. "How do _you _know _my_ name?" he asked.

"I don't know. But I have the strangest feeling we've met before."

"So have I."  
"This is going to sound silly," she hesitated for a moment. " But I, um, I'm sure you've asked me to marry you."

His eyes grew alarmingly wide. 

"And you said perhaps!"

They stared at each other for a moment, then laughed (in a scary, unison kind of thing).

"Life's funny, isn't it?" she said.

He nodded. "It certainly is."

He took her hand, and they went out into the snow to ice skate on the frozen lake, pausing briefly under the mistletoe above the great doors.

The End.

a/n: haha, so there you have it. please feel free to flame me, it's christmas so i really don't care. row, I hope you enjoyed it! if anyone was wondering (which i seriously doubt they were) ron and rowena did get married and lived happily ever after!


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